Well I did the search and have posted it.. I went for a walk on the workdeck the smell of the salt and seaweed is very strong and you know that you are by the ocean it is not often here you get that great smell. Well for me it is a great smell it so reminds me of my childhood and the trips to the ocean. Our parents used to take us every summer to the ocean. Have loved that smell since then. I remember smoking grass reeds with our uncle on the beach one summer. Not sure our parents where happy about it but oh well. The love of ocean and that smell comes to me honestly as my Father loves it as well. When we did not live near the ocean like we do now every time I went home they would take me for a drive to the oceanside. As they knew how much I missed that smell and the ocean. So in some ways living out here is well just the way it should be. Hard but some good with it. One must always try and see that their glass is half full not half empty. Well off from the Bluff
Pea soup fogPea Soup, or Pea Souper is an idiom for fog. Although it is sometimes used for any thick fog, it refers particularly to a yellowish smog caused by the burning of soft coal. Such fogs were prevalent in UK cities (particularly London) prior to passage of the Clean Air Act of 1956. An 1871 New York Times article refers to "London, particularly, where the population are periodically submerged in a fog of the consistency of pea soup..."
Contrary to popular impression, the Arthur Conan Doyle Sherlock Holmes stories contain only a handful of references to London fogs, and the phrase "pea-soup" is not used. A Study in Scarlet (1887) mentions that "a dun-coloured veil hung over the house-tops."
In the phrase "pea-soup fog," the implied comparison may have been to yellow pea soup: "...the yellow fog hung so thick and heavy in the streets of London that the lamps were lighted" (Frances Hodgson Burnett, A Little Princess, 1892); "The yellow fog that rubs its back upon the window-panes," (T. S. Eliot, The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock, 1917; "London had been reeking in a green-yellow fog" (Winston Churchill, A Traveller in War-Time, 1918); "the brown fog of a winter dawn" (T. S. Eliot, The Waste Land (1922); "a faint yellow fog" (Stella Benson, This is the End). Inez Haynes Irwin writing in 1921 in The Californiacs praises what was then the superior quality of California fog, saying it is "Not distilled from pea soup like the London fogs; moist air-gauzes rather, pearl-touched and glimmering."